


The Boxer

by coeurastronaute



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, clarke is a doctor, lexa is a boxer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 16:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11832162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coeurastronaute/pseuds/coeurastronaute
Summary: lexa is a boxer training for the olympics. She meets a doctor.





	1. Chapter 1

Punches (Part 1)

Sore and still fuming, Lexa sat, stoic and agitated behind the blue curtain of the emergency room exam table. She did not move save to look at her knuckles and try to flex them despite the growing bruises and cuts. The pain made her wince, but she kept gingerly testing her hands. She swished the bit of spit around in her mouth, swallowing the blood and copper taste as something so familiar.

“The doctor is going to be right in, Miss…” A deep voice accompanied the screeching of the curtain as it was pulled back. The cop licked his thumb and flipped through his notepad.

“Woods,” Lexa offered, clenching her fist and letting her hands rest against her lap without a second thought.

“I just have a few questions, if you think you can answer them.”

“Alright.” Her head throbbed and she tasted blood on her teeth but she agreed to get it over with as soon as she could.

“What were you doing at the store?”

“Buying a drink. I was thirsty.”

“Do you normally go to that store? What has you out at a late hour?”

“I stop there about once a week. I was heading home. My gym is a block away. They didn’t have the flavour I like in the machine, so I decided to stop.”

“When you first walked in, did you notice anything particular happening? Something out of the ordinary?” He asked, looking up after he finished writing.

“I don’t know. I had my headphones in, and I just went to grab a drink.”

“Okay, why don’t you just tell me what happened?”

“Are they going to be okay?” Lexa felt a sharp pain in her side. It was familiar and welcomed.

“Please, just tell me what happened?”

“The one pulled out a knife. The cashier pulled out a bat.” The girl on the exam table grimaced and held her wrist after it moved. “I don’t know what happened exactly. I just got the knife out of his hand and put him down,” she looked at the slice on her knuckle and remembered how his teeth felt. “Eventually.”

“This would be suspect one, with the broken jaw?”

“I guess,” Lexa shrugged.

“Why didn’t you just step back, let them take the money?”

“That cashier is like seventy. They would have killed him.”

“What happened after the first assailant was on the ground?”

“I didn’t notice the second one. He caught me by surprise. I think the cashier was shouting. I don’t know. It all blurs together at this point,” she stated, pointing at the cut above her eyebrow.

“How long have you been training?”

“I’ve been boxing since I was thirteen,” she recounted, grinding her teeth.

“On your record, it states that you’ve been charged with aggravated assault before, though the charges were dropped.”

“Yup.”

“You put two people in the hospital tonight.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Ms. Woods.”

“I was eighteen and I broke my foster dad’s nose, four ribs, and left orbital fracture. The charges were dropped and that was that.”

“You couldn’t have gone a little easier one them?” he asked, softening slightly. “I have to clean this up now.”

“That was me taking it easy on them,” she smirked.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Officer,” the curtain was thrown open once more as a doctor with her nose in a file entered with little more than a slight look up at the inhabitants. “I hope anything else can wait.”

“I think I’m good,” he nodded politely before reaching into his pocket. He shoved his notepad in and pulled out a card that he set on the tray beside the bloodied patient. “If you remember anything else, Ms. Woods. We’ll be in touch if we need you.”

“Thanks,” she nodded as he smiled and returned it.

“Well, you certainly look bad, though I’ve seen the other guys,” the doctor decided, putting the folder down and closing the curtain behind the departing officer. “I’m Dr. Griffin, and I’m going to take a look at you, okay?”

“Just need a few painkillers and bandaids, doc,” Lexa tried, watching as the doctor slipped on a pair of gloves.

“Hero of the night, you better bet you’re getting the whole VIP treatment.” The blonde grinned at the woman on her table, oddly impressed by her and infinitely curious. “You are going to need stitches above your eye. And I’d like to send you for an x-ray on that wrist.”

“It’s fine.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“No.”

“Alright then. How about we just do what I say for now?”

“Yes ma’am,” Lexa grinned, not leaving those blue eyes for a minute. She waited until the doctor looked away and swore there was a rush of red in her cheeks before she did.

Vanilla. That was what she smelled like. Vanilla and fresh laundry. It was warm and a soft kind of calm that distracted Lexa with proximity as the doctor began the task of stitching her up. It felt hot, felt like the air was stagnant and like the sky before a summer storm. The dangerous kind of potential.

“Do all your patients get such good care? I thought I’d be pawned off to a nurse in a few seconds flat.”

“Not all of my patients beat people up and save someone’s life.” Clarke wanted to say that not all patients had eyes like that, or shoulders like that, or a smile like that, but she didn’t even want to admit that to herself.

“I beat people up for a living,” Lexa shrugged, closing her eye as the needle first made contact with the gash. “It’s no different than any other night for me.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m a boxer.”

“Ah, really? I’ve never met an actual boxer. It explains why you’re so…” Clarke swallowed and looked at the shirtless woman. Her eyes moved to her abs just below the sports bra, to her arms, to her shoulders. “I mean. I. You know they exist. I’ve just never met one. You don’t look like one. Just. Maybe. Like. You’re fit. You can tell. You take care. A boxer you say?” Lexa smiled, crooked and cocky. Clarke looked anywhere but.

“I’m training for Olympic trials.” Lexa watched the blush climb through the doctor’s neck, spreading like a forest fire in July on the savannah of her chest and cheeks. She was certain the one from earlier was real as well.

“Really?”

“I was. This might put me behind schedule.”

“You have like a year.”

“It goes quick. Trials are in eight months. How long am I going to be out?”

“As soon as I get your x-ray, I’ll let you know.”

“What do you guess?”

“I don’t guess.”

“Give it a try.”

“Do you want me to ruin your face? Sit still.”

With a small glance, Lexa debated an argument before decided against it. This doctor was different, and she was oddly afraid of trying anything.

“Yes ma’am.”

Despite her smile, the pain aggravated Lexa. Like a dull, annoying noise that wouldn’t stop ringing, she tolerated it and felt it pull on her lips so the smile did not last very long at all. The quiet settled between them and both took the time to size the other up.

Clarke saw the tattoos on Lexa’s shoulders, on her arms. Deciphered the ink embedded in her skin as best she could. Snuck glances at the scars peaking around the straps of her bra on her back. It only left her more curious and invested.

“It was very impressive, what you did. Even if it might have cost you training time,” the doctor decided in the quiet, her words barely above much else. The noise from the rest of the emergency room still rattled on outside the curtain.

“Anyone would have done the same thing,” Lexa shrugged it off as the curtain opened once more.

“That’s not true,” the doctor promised.

“Maybe I just like to hurt people.” That was honest, and Lexa was unsure why.

“I think it might be a protective instinct.”

“I do like hurting people.”

“I don’t believe it.” She cut the string and looked over her shoulder as an intern pushed the scans up on the board. “Make sure the papers are ready for discharge.”

“Of course, Dr. Griffin.”

“Hope you didn’t disfigure me any worse,” Lexa smiled as her proximity to the doctor finally grew and she felt as if she could breathe finally. The crackling air between them had been too much to allow such things.

“We’ll take them out in a few days,” the doctor offered without turning around as she perused the scans, pulling her gloves off mechanically.

Slowly, Clarke looked over the scans, squinting and peering, tilting her head, running her fingers along ridges and shapes. Lexa remained sitting, her arm already immobilized in a sling and heavy against her neck.

“Well, what’s the verdict?”

“You’re lucky there isn’t a metacarpal fracture,” the doctor swallowed and said over her shoulder, distracted by the stories on the x-rays. “Looks live you’ve had a few before.”

“Two years ago.”

“It healed well. I see significant remodelling and multiple healed breaks that weren’t set properly.” Clarke glanced back at her, realizing what the stories etched into the bones meant.

“Yeah. Anything new?”

“Were these? What happened? Were you aware-?”

“Intimately.”

“Are you still in this… environment?”

“Listen, is it sprained or what, doc? I should be heading home,” Lexa said stiffly, sliding off the edge of the table and standing quickly. She flinched under those eyes, especially when those sad eyes came from a pretty doctor.

“Your wrist is fractured,” Clarke said, furrowing and turning around once more to see her almost leaving. “I can wrap it, and you’ll need to not use it for about eight weeks.”

“Perfect. Gives me time to practices southpaw.”

“Lexa… I mean,” Clarke ran her hand over her neck, tugging on it. “Ms. Woods. I apologize for making you… uncomfortable. I’ve just… there is… I’ve never seen so much… so many breaks. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do it,” Lexa shrugged, pulling off the sling and grabbing her shirt. “I’ll ice it at home.”

Clarke stood there and watched her slip on the shirt, covering the multi-colored bruising on her side and the tattoo on the other.

“Let me at least-”

“You’ve been a real blast,” Lexa interrupted. “I’ll just sign a few things and be on my way.”

“I should-” Clarke was stuttering and surprised, no longer in control.

“I’ll see you around, doc.”

She was gone a second later, after only the diagnosis and what it meant for her training. Clarke signed and turned back to the scan in the quiet of the early morning. Her eyes jumped to every break and fracture and anomaly on the bones and she felt very sorry for having upset her patient.

* * *

The quiet of the gym before dawn was a sacred thing. Lexa prayed and worshipped and hid there. She did it for years because it was safe, because it was home to her when she didn’t have one. After the unending night and the aching in her bones, Lexa wanted just two minutes of peace before she fell into bed. She needed just a few minutes of reverential quiet.

“I thought that was supposed to keep you out for two months,” a voice came as the bell above the door jingled.

“I’m going to start training with my left,” Lexa grunted, moving the ice from her wrist and slowly stretching it. “Doesn’t school start in an hour?”

“You never called to tell me you were in a fight.”

“I get in fights every few months.”

“In a ring!” her sister yelled, her voice louder than it actually was in the empty, echoing gym. “You should have called me. I could have come down. Helped out.”

“I’m fine, Anya,” Lexa sighed, looking up from her seat at the towering figure of her little sister.

“Bellamy called me and told me. I’ve been worried sick.” Gently, she reached out and lifted her sister’s chin, surveying the damage to her eye in the light.

“Of course he did.” Lexa swatted away her hand.

“You’re an idiot! Why would you do something so stupid?”

“It’s too early for this.” Her bones ached and her head throbbed still. It’d turned into a very, very long night.

“Were you just never going to tell me? You can’t keep doing that, Lex!”

“You don’t have to worry about me. Just worry about your classes. I don’t get in rings and get beat up for you to fail and waste all that tuition money.”

“You can’t dismiss me. I’m not some kid anymore.”

“You might be a foot taller than me, but you’re still my baby sister, and I very much can choose what I do and don’t tell you.”

“You always do this!” Anya seethed, taking a step back and looking away. The family wrath was well and good in her. “I’m fifteen years old. I’m not some kid you have to lock up in the closet anymore to protect me. I deserve to know-”

“You’re still a kid!” Lexa yelled back despite the pounding in her head. “And I’m going to keep it that way. You’re a kid who gets to go to school and learn and you’re going to go to college. That’s what I’m working for. That’s what I do. Don’t you come in here and tell me what I owe you or what I will or won’t do.”

Though both stood tall, chests out and heckles raised, it was Anya who grit her teeth and deflated first, knowing she wasn’t going to win. Lexa watched her walk toward the ring in the center of the gym and sigh. She looked like their mother. The cheeks, the height, the way she smiled, her laugh, even the fire in her eyes and smarts. She embodied the best things.

“You should have called me.”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“What if you died?” she turned back, eyes glassy though refusing to break the flimsy barrier. “What if you got hurt? You can’t do that. You promised.”

“I know,” Lexa flexed her jaw and looked at the floor, guilty and tired. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I yelled. I’m just achy and exhausted. It’s been a long night.”

“I’m sorry I yelled.”

“I’m okay, Anya. I promise.”

“I know.”

“Did you eat breakfast?” Lexa attempted to distract her, to move away from the anger that existed just a few minutes ago, to get back to normal was the best option. Lexa could evade feelings like it was her job.

“No.”

“Did you grab your chem book from the table before you-”

“Yes,” she sighed, dragging it out.

“Did you correct those calculus problems I looked over?”

“Yes.”

“Come on then,” Lexa decided, grabbing her coat. “Let’s go to Patty’s and get some breakfast. If you’re done yelling.”

“I apologized.”

“I was kind of impressed.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think I had it in me. I kind of just went with it,” Anya grinned as her sister winced and slipped her coat over her shoulders without putting her arms in it. “Are you going to tell me about it?”

“Now you want the details,” Lexa smiled, pushing open the door as it signalled their departure.

* * *

“You shouldn’t have done it,” Lexa ground her teeth together as she tried another punch. Her left felt so much different. She missed her wounded right. It served her well, loyally.

“Stop being mad already. She needed to know.”

“Why?” the boxer slugged near his face until he switched sides as he held the bag. “Would you have told Octavia?”

“It’s different.”

“It’s really not.” Two more taps and a big hit. Lexa tried to balance her breathing.

“You are pig-headed and the only person who gets through to you is that girl. I need you safe.” Her trainer stood up, letting to as Lexa backed off. “I know it wasn’t right, but you take risks you shouldn’t sometimes. You’re reckless. You think you’re indestructible, but you’re not. And you need to remember people need you around.”

“You’re still on about that fight,” Lexa tossed up her hands before grabbing a water bottle from her chair. “I won. You’re the only person that seems to forget it.”

“I should have thrown in the towel.”

“Don’t use Anya like that again,” Lexa muttered, circling back up again. “That was low, and you know it.” A whole week she hung on to that anger when she found out Bellamy called Anya. A whole week of the angry kind of practices that left her sore and in an ice bath because she pushed herself when he said to relax, purely out of spite.

“Whatever works.”

The evening lingered as the shadows grew long and finally disappeared, dissolving into the world until they took over completely. The other boxers slowly packed up and left, mingled about and talked near lockers. Lexa was a shadow, sticking around until there was no difference between her and the gym.

“Ten more,” Bellamy slapped her knee as she curled up on the bag, gripping it between her thighs. She rolled her eyes and grunted as she moved again. “There it is.”

It wasn’t that Lexa considered herself to be oblivious, just that she was focused upon the task at hand so wholly that the rest of the world disappeared. In the monotony of her workout, she found clarity, she found time to think about what was going to happen in her day. She thought about what she would pick up for dinner on her way home for her and her sister. Thought about the homework she’d have to check and the chores she’d have to make sure were done. Thought about bills and how they were covered for the month already, steadily going through the list to make sure. So when she finished her final rep and hung there like a bat, it took a moment for her to register the oddly familiar shade of blonde across the gym floor.

“Wow,” Bellamy leaned against the bad, steadying it. He let out a low whistle to himself as he saw her too.

Lexa met her eyes and that was all she could remember. Her legs let go and she met the mat with a thud. Quickly she righted herself, careful to avoid the hurt wrist.

“Fuck,” she hissed, rubbing the back of her head as the doctor approached, carefully avoiding equipment and the lingering members.

“Smooth,” Bellamy chuckled. “You know her?”

“You can say that. Dr. Griffin,” Lexa nodded as she reached the duo. “Looking to join a gym?”

“Just making a house call,” the blonde sassed back. They stared at each other for a minute until Lexa broke it, looking down and beginning to pull the wrap from her hand.

“I’m Bellamy,” the trainer offered, supplying his hand. “Bellamy Blake.”

“Clarke Griffin,” she shook it with a warm smile. “Is she always an uncooperative patient?”

“You have no idea.” He looked between them as they stood, ready for battle almost. He recognized the grin his friend had, he recognized the gait and the stance and he knew there was something about this stranger. “I guess I’ll be heading back to the office.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You as well.”

Even as he walked away, Bellamy looked over his shoulder at the pair. His boxer stood, stance wide and face stoic. He recognized a certain amusement in her face though.

“How can I help you, doc?”

“You didn’t come get your stitches removed. And yet,” Clarke sized up the boxer’s face that refused to look up at her. “You are stitch-less.”

“If you think I haven’t had stitches before, then you’re mistaken.”

“You should have come in, Ms. Woods.”

“It’s Lexa,” the boxer sighed and moved past the doctor towards her bag on the chair. “And do all of your patients get house calls?”

“Only ones who I’m worried won’t follow medical advice and risk ruining her career because I offended them,” Clarke tried, following a few steps. “I didn’t mean to-”

“You didn’t offend me. And I haven’t been using it. I’m not stupid. I know I could mess up my future if I try to use it too quickly.”

“Okay,” Clarke nodded. She blushed and tried to look away. “I’m still sorry. I know I hit a nerve. I don’t really like doing that. And I guess I just-”

“That right there,” Lexa pointed at the doctor’s face. “That face.”

“What? I wasn’t-”

“I know that face,” she smiled sadly. “I wasn’t mad at you. It’s just that face. Sometimes, most of the time, I forget. I can pretend. But a pretty doctor looks at you like you’re looking at me, like how you looked at me when you saw… I’m not used to feeling like I’m that ten year old kid anymore. I had to go as quickly as possible.”

For a moment, Clarke nodded and watched Lexa look away as she finished, tucking something into her bag. She watched the muscles of her back move and roll beneath her skin, saw the faint pink, raised skin of her scars.

“It wasn’t pity,” she finally whispered as the boxer towelled her neck. “It was just… surprise. It wasn’t pity.”

“Alright.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Why are you here, Doc?” Lexa sighed.

“Look at you… Oh my…” Clarke held out her hand and then snapped it back as it approached Lexa’s sweat-covered stomach. “You. I came to see. Goodness. It’s really hot in here.”

“You came to ogle me?” Lexa grinned. She flexed, but she’d deny it if pressed.

“Yes. No. No,” Clarke decided. “Just to check on you. I was worried.” She cleared her throat and looked around. “So this is where you… box?”

“Yeah.”

“Looks good.”

“How’d you find me?”

“Emergency contact.”

“Anya,” Lexa shook her head. “My sister sent you here.”

“Something like that.”

“Do you want to try?” she nudged her head towards the bag.

“There’s no way I could do those crunch things you were doing,” Clarke shook her head.

“Want to give it a punch?” Clarke looked at the girl who hung from the bag and she wondered for just a moment what she was doing there. “Come on, doc. It’ll feel good.”

When she offered to walk her home, she didn’t expect to enjoy talking to her so much, or to feel so honoured that she was one someone else’s mind, or that she was as intrigued as she was by the stranger. But the night was full of surprises, and Lexa adjusted her bag in the warm, summer evening and mulled over such things in the streetlights.

“Thirteen is young,” Clarke nodded, sitting beside her chivalrous boxer.

“I was the smallest thing, too,” Lexa smiled, remembering. “Indra saw me get into a fight. I got my ass kicked by some older kids. She said she’d show me how to defend myself, and I just never left the gym.”

“She must have an eye for talent.”

“She should know. She won every award, every title, held them the longest. And when her husband died, she hung up her gloves and took over the gym. She’s kind of spectacular.”

“Sounds like it.”

It was the ringing of her phone that interrupted. Lexa saw the way Clarke watched her lips, felt how she leaned closer. She was both thankful and annoyed by the disturbance.

“Sorry… it’s my sister.”

“No, yeah, of course,” Clarke nodded, as Lexa took a few steps away on the sidewalk and murmured into her phone. She got a sheepish smile in the middle of some explanation.

Clarke lived only fifteen minutes from the gym, but the walk somehow took over two hours. She didn’t realize until she checked her watch, and wondered where it had all disappeared. Almost as much as she was worried that it was going to end.

“Sorry,” Lexa stood, refusing to sit again. “She worries.”

“I would too if you make a habit out of rescuing cashiers and going to the emergency room at all hours.”

“One time,” the athlete shrugged as Clarke stood, a step higher, though finally the same height.

“I won’t distract you from her for another minute.”

“She’ll be okay.”

“Thank you for walking me home. And for letting me stalk you.”

“I only think its stalking if you make a habit of it.”

“I think that parts up to you.”

“Your right hook wasn’t too bad,” Lexa shifted slightly.

“Now that’s a compliment I never thought I’d get.”

“I am sorry I bolted from the hospital the other night. It’s just… it wasn’t you. It was the questions and the look, and I do appreciate you trying to make sure I was alright.”

“There was no look.”

“There was a look,” Lexa smiled. “But that’s okay.”

“I’m sorry. Never again.”

“I should head home,” the boxer nodded. The doctor just agreed and remained rooted on her step.

“Thanks again. And take care.”

“You too, doc.”

Lexa made it six steps before turning around and taking four back towards the girl on her steps who hadn’t moved.

“Do you want to maybe get coffee sometime? Or dinner? Or go for a walk? I like walks, and the park is pretty. If you have time. I don’t know. Is that inappropriate? I just. I’m bad at reading this and if I am, I understand. I just. I should try.”

“Are you free Friday night?’

“I can be,” Lexa smiled.

“Good.”

* * *

“Well, what do you say, doc?” Lexa grinned, catching her breath in the crook of Clarke’s neck. The doctor merely groaned and sighed as fingers slipped and her hips twitched. “All healed?”

“Shh,” Clarke grinned, covering her mouth, eyes closed and heart racing.

The boxer moved slightly, moving to lay beside her. She kissed her cheek, kissed her jaw, kissed her shoulder as she watched her come down, watched her open her eyes, dazed and content.

“Best housecall ever.”

“I think that should be my line,” the doctor whispered.

“I told you it’s better.”

“I think I’d have to agree.”

Half-tired and fully aware she wasn’t walking anytime soon, Clarke lifted the wrist in question, gently running her fingers along the bones and skin. She surveyed it as if she had x-ray vision, as if she’d be able to pinpoint any problems. But all she could do was kiss it, kiss her palm and rest it against her heart.

“You’re beautiful,” Lexa whispered, lifting the hand in particular and running her thumb along Clarke’s cheek, down her neck. She pushed hair from her forehead and let it make the trip once more before kissing her softly.

“You’re more poet than boxer.”

“You’ve never seen me fight.”

“That’s going to be hard, I think.”

“I better win then. Shit, is that what time it is?” Lexa caught the clock by Clarke’s bed.

“I think so.”

“I promised Anya I’d meet her after school. She has a volleyball game.”

“You’ll make it,” Clarke promised as the athlete slipped from her bed. She watched her naked body search for clothes, pulling on what she could find.

“Sorry. I wish we could… you know. The whole post-sex game-recap,” Lexa said, pushing her hair around on her head as she surveyed the room.

“I think I’ll survive.”

“I don’t like just running.”

“I knew you had stuff to do. It’s okay. Time just got away from us.”

“Your days off are precious,” Lexa agreed.

“I feel bad, you’ll be in the gym late tonight.”

“I’m always in late,” she said from beneath her shirt as it pulled over her head.

“Have you thought about… me meeting Anya?” Clarke propped herself up and watched Lexa sit at the edge of the bed, slipping on shoes.

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m not rushing. I just. Whenever you’re ready. I want you to know that I’ve thought about it. That’s where I am.”

“I have too. I mean. I’ve thought.”

“I’m more than okay with these afternoon rendezvous,” Clarke smiled, holding the blankets to her chest.

“What about those late night liaisons?” Lexa shared it, climbing her way up the bed, trapping the doctor between herself and the mattress.

“Yeah. And those morning meetings.”

“Soon,” Lexa promised, kissing Clarke between words. She held her neck and stood above her, trailing away slowly.

“No rush. I mean it.”

“I know.”

“Get out of here.”

“See you tomorrow. Dinner. Movies. Dessert?” It was that grin, Clarke remembered it from the first minute she met Lexa months ago. It made her gulp.

“Definitely.”


	2. Chapter 2

Punches (Part 2)

Before dawn, the snow that came on city streets was crisp and clean and pushed into piles on corners and hiding curbs. The city was soft, was frozen through its clothes and tucked safely beneath the fluff of a long night of precipitation. Even the sun was slow in coming up beyond the horizon, between the buildings, as if it too, was stuck, boiling beneath a sheet of ice that was slow to melt.

Despite the early hour, and despite the snow, Lexa ran through the city as it just began to shake its coat and rid itself of the weather that’d accumulated while it slept. Her breath turned to daggers in her throat and her limbs grew frozen and burned despite how cold it was, but still she trudged along, her thoughts keeping her warm and occupied.

It was easier to think when she was quiet and alone, lost in the city and on her normal route. If she wove up and down, went through the park and down to the lake, by the time she made it back uptown, it was seven miles and she would end up at Clarke’s door. And that was always a good way to start the day. Before the commuters took over the roads, as the buses were beginning to yawn down alleys, as garbage trucks moved methodically, creeping through sleeping neighborhoods, Lexa had the city and her head to herself.

Through the snow and sidewalks beginning to be filled with traffic of the day, Lexa wrestled with her thoughts. This was the time for such things. For thinking about Anya’s new uniforms she needed for the spring, and for thinking about bills and those endorsements her agent found that were stupid, but could easily pay for a semester of college, and for her schedule for the day, then for tomorrow, then for the week, and for the doctor who patched her up and made her breakfast and kissed her frequently. Lexa had to think at least four steps of her opponents, of her life, and this was how she did it.

It’d been an interesting few months, trying to balance all of it. But, weirdly enough, or at least weirdly enough to her, Lexa felt comfortable with Clarke, enjoyed spending time with her, liked that she supported her and liked that she was a place she could escape her house and responsibilities and forget, and be normal, for just a few hours. It all evolved at a slow pace and it all moved forward as easily as she allowed. Clarke made her feel normal, and not as if she were grinding herself away to fulfill others’ needs. In the scheme of her life, of where she was at the moment, it was good. And Clarke didn’t mind that Lexa was taking things slow, which was new and rewarding to the athlete, who found herself smiling as she finally slowed.

“You’re late,” Clarke greeted from down the hall her as she stomped her shoes on the mat by the front door. “You slowing down on me, Woods? Big match coming up you know.”

“Ah geeze, Mickey, give me a break,” Lexa smiled, pulling off her sweatshirt and tossing it on the railing of the steps as she made her way towards the kitchen and the girl. “Snow makes it hard. Don’t want to slip and break a leg.”

“I wish you’d run on that fancy thing called a treadmill,” Clarke sighed, moving to the toaster as it popped. Lexa sauntered up behind her, giddy and on a high from running and the cold. Her muscles were limber and her mind was free, her blood was soaked with endorphins and morning and the way Clarke’s house smelled. “It’s not like Bellamy doesn’t have like six of them at the gym.”

“And miss out on my woman cooking me breakfast?” Lexa growled into Clarke’s neck, hands wrapping around her hips. Lexa lived for mornings. She loved them, she raved and she waxed poetic over them. There wasn’t a specific reason, though Clarke was certainly helping.

“Your woman just worked eighteen hours and needs someone to cook her breakfast sometime. I almost called and cancelled but I wouldn’t see you for a few days if I did that.”

“Why won’t you stay at my place?”

“Because you have a little sister and a whole life,” Clarke shrugged.

“So do you, and it’s closer to the hospital. I’d make you breakfast,” Lexa kissed higher, grinning as the blonde’s head tilted, giving her more room, more skin on display. “You could wash me up after practice. Sleep in the same bed for more than a few hours.”

“You’re serious about this?”

“I didn’t offer just to offer and say I did. Of course I meant it.” Hands slipped lower and hips pressed Clarke into the counter. “You spending the night could be fun.”

“Your eggs are going to burn,” she complained weakly though her hips swayed, and her back arched, and her hand instinctively lifted over her head, holding Lexa’s lips on her pulse.

“Can’t have that.”

It was hard, but Lexa untangled herself, realizing that eighteen hours was a long time to be at work, only to burn the food she’d worked so hard on as well. She kissed Clarke’s head, and pulled back, watching her work.

Their mornings together usually followed this kind of routine, depending on if Clarke was heading to work or just getting back. But Lexa got to get handsy and the doctor would complain about her sweaty shirt on the railing, and they had about twenty minutes together, uninterrupted, where they sat and talked and started the day together.

“So you’ll spend the night sometime?” she ventured again, oddly struck by the idea she’d been afraid to bring up. She’d mentioned it in passing, as a joke, attempting to see how Clarke would take it, but desperate times and such. It felt like the right step, a safe step. She’d spent the night a few times with Clarke, here and there, but overall they’d been distinctly separate.

“If you think that’s okay.”

“Don’t you?”

“I do, but I know you. You have so much to do in the coming weeks. I don’t want to get my hopes up and I don’t want to push. I am totally cool with how we are.”

“You’re not pushing. I invited you.”

“Okay,” Clarke smiled, pushing a plate across the island. Lexa smiled a little bigger, picked up her fork and stared at the sleepy doctor before her eyes. She fell in love on mornings like this morning.

“Tonight?”

“You eager or something?”

“Something,” Lexa grinned, loopy and dazed as she saddled up to the bar stool and watched the blonde lean against the opposite side. “I’m cooking dinner. Anya is done with school before break. My famous fish tacos. We were going to chill out and watch movies.”

“Famous?”

“In select markets.”

“Can’t pass that up, can I?”

“Listen, if you don’t want to come over, you really don’t have to. I don’t want to push you eith-”

“No, no, no,” Clarke smiled, blushed, bashful and such to jump to her own defense so swiftly. “I didn’t say that. I just… you’re you. I move at your pace.”

“I’m quite speedy, I’ll have you know.”

“You’re an emotional snail.”

“I’m cautious.”

“Listen, I am over the moon crazy about you, but I know you. I know what you tell me at least,” Clarke shrugged and fiddled with her own mug. “You’re doing something important that takes discipline and courage and I don’t want to mess up that at all. I don’t want you to resent me for maybe distracting you or interrupting it all. And I get all of it. I really do. I’m not bothered-”

“I’m training for the Olympics, I’m not becoming a monk,” Lexa promised. “I was worried too. You know… about balance. I am worried. But I know when to focus. I know how. You help me focus.”

“I doubt that.”

“You don’t think I train a little harder when you’re watching to impress you?” she chuckled and took a bite, meeting Clarke’s eyes once more, both blushing and giddy. “I see you check me out when I’m working out.”

“You caught me. I’m only with you for your body.”

“Just wait til you see me after a fight. That’s the true test.”

“That’s going to be hard.”

“The black eye and broken nose aesthetic isn’t your thing?”

“We’ll see.”

“These are good,” Lexa pointed at the plate as the doctor rolled her eyes and took a sip of her coffee.

“Does Anya know?” Clarke stole a corner of toast. Truth be told, she loved her breakfast dates. She loved Lexa’s flyaways and the way her eyes looked after a run. She loved feeling like she contributed and was part of the team. She loved how happy the boxer was, first thing in the morning, waxing poetic about the entirety of the day before her and so much time to do so many things. It was a good way to start, or finish, a day.

“I’ll tell her when I take her to school.”

“She doesn’t like me.”

“She doesn’t know you. This is a good way to let you guys get comfortable.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Lexa grinned, excited at the prospect. “You’re not freaking out are you? It’s just a slumber party.”

“I’m excited.”

“Me too.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re getting laid,” Clarke added, turning towards the sink to start the dishes.

“Of course it does.”

“What a cocky fellow you are.”

“You haven’t had my tacos yet. You’re going to be all over me, Doc.”

The doctor shook her head for a moment, still tired from her shift, still amused despite the confidence exuding from her breakfast date. She smiled and rinsed the pan while Lexa grinned into her juice and watched her shoulders move, oddly victorious and excited at the thought of the night suddenly, oddly proud of herself for not being an emotional snail and having adult feelings and dealing with this all well enough.

The only noise was the crunching of toast when Clarke turned off the water and turned back towards her guest. Slow and steady, she walked around the counter. Slow and purposeful she leaned forward and kissed her cheek, sitting beside her.

“Tell me about your night?” Lexa ventured, sliding her plate between them and sharing her fork.

* * *

“Okay, I give,” Clarke huffed, pushing her plate. “I can understand why you’re famous in select markets.”

“She doubted me,” the boxer explained to her sister, taking another bite.

“I doubted she even existed,” Anya shrugged, earning an elbow from her sister and a laugh from Clarke. “I’m serious. A doctor who was so beautiful and smart and nice,” she sang, mocking Lexa. “I didn’t believe it at all. Let alone you’d find her and she’d agree to go out with you. Highly improbable.”

“Okay, I didn’t sound like that,” Lexa defended herself weakly, feeling the prickly burn of a blush in her neck and cheek. She couldn’t look up at the blonde across the table, much to the other two diners enjoyment.

“Kind of,” Clarke chuckled.

“I regret inviting you over if you’re both going to team up on me.”

“It’s called bonding,” Anya offered.

“Yeah, bonding,” the doctor agreed.

Dinner went well, went smoothly, despite the almost noticeable nerves that festered just below Lexa’s skin, making her movements a little clumsy and her thoughts jump around like a nervous cat. Lexa watched her sister, wary of her moods and mouth, warning her already to be on her best behavior before Clarke arrived. And when the doctor did, Lexa kissed her cheek and grinned, wild and nervous, doing the official introductions between the two.

While she cooked, they orbited. Clarke did surprisingly well, though Lexa knew she shouldn’t be so surprised by that. But she kept up with Anya, and she was genuinely interested in the high schooler. What did it, Lexa realized, was the conversation she vaguely overheard while she was finishing up and they sat on the couch watching television. When Clarke professed that she was glad Anya had some experience with dealing with a boxer, and that she was insanely out of her element. And her sister simply told her it was okay most of the time, and the best tip was to lie and say the bruises weren’t so bad.

“Your sister looks like you,” Clarke whispered as Lexa adjusted on the couch. The dishwasher swished away in the background, the house still and quiet as night grew deeper.

“Not at all,” Lexa snorted. “My nose had been broken so many times it hasn’t been straight since I last was.”

“The eyes. The mannerisms. The jaw,” Clarke kissed Lexa’s as she mentioned it. The movie played on while they whispered.

“She looks like our mom,” Lexa nodded, adjusting again and pulling the blonde closer as she burrowed against her side. “I don’t look like any of them.”

“Because you get beat up for a living.”

“Because I just didn’t get the good genes.”

“I like Anya.”

“I’m relieved.”

“Were you really worried?” Clarke lifted her head, giving Lexa a stern kind of look. She hemmed and hawed and shrugged as she was known to do when asked a question of substance.

“Anya has a way of… she has a hard outer shell.”

“I wonder where she got that from,” Clarke rolled her eyes.

“She can be vocal about her disapproval or when she dislikes something. I was just worried you two wouldn’t get along,” Lexa continued, ignoring her. “I was worried you might be a little nervous about my arrangement.”

“I put up with your sweaty clothes all through my house, and you think the fact that you work hard, provide for your sister, put her in private school, and are doting and her guardian would bother me?”

“Yeah.”

“I knew from day one Anya was part of the deal.”

“I know, but it’s different.”

“She’s a sweet kid and you’re doing a great job.”

“She likes you.”

“Why wouldn’t she? I’m likable,” Clarke wrapped her arms around Lexa’s ribs, ran her nose along her neck as Lexa dipped her lips, catching her. “You like me,” the doctor whispered, lips hovering near Lexa’s.

“I’m fond of you.”

“Are you going to make me breakfast tomorrow?”

“After my run.”

Clarke nodded finally, pulling away and standing up from the couch. She held out her hand to the boxer who remained rooted on the couch.

“Let’s go to bed.”

* * *

Work couldn’t end soon enough. Clarke found herself so antsy that she even paid for a cab to take her across town rather than wait for the subway. The entire ride though, she wasn’t too certain as to what was causing the nerves explicitly. It was a lot of things, and yet nothing that she could name.

Things were different the morning she woke up in Lexa’s bed a few weeks ago. Better. But still different. She wasn’t sure how it became so intimate, how that had made them grow together. It didn’t rush them, it didn’t become habitual, though it happened a few more times. It was simply nice and it was hopeful.

It wasn’t that she hurried to catch the end of Lexa’s workout, because that would be ridiculous. Though it wasn’t completely out of the question. Clarke found herself hurrying because she wanted to get in all the time she could and she was nervous about how to handle Lexa leaving for a week for Qualifiers.

It wasn’t that she hurried to catch the end of Lexa’s workout, but when Clarke opened the door to the gym and managed to find the boxer, she was rewarded with the site of her in her sports bra and gloves with the sweat and the muscles and it wasn’t the worst thing in the world to have to see.

Quiet and calm, Clarke hid her nerves and moved through the now familiar gym. Unnoticed, she didn’t get many chances to simply watch Lexa work, to watch her do what she did, but seeing it was almost a little bit of magic. Not knowledgeable at all about boxing or most sports in general, Clarke knew she was watching something special when she saw Lexa training. There was something magnificent about how she moved and how her eyes were so strong and burning with some kind of fire.

Regardless of what it is, when you see someone doing what they were put on this earth to do, whether it be mowing lawns or dribbling a ball or changing a diaper, there’s a bit of magic to it, a bit of goodness that is beyond words, but it is damnwell the most important thing.

“She looks good, right?” Clarke finally ventures, taking a seat beside Anya who barely looks up, stuck deep into her text book.

“Sure.”

“I don’t really know,” the doctor confessed.

“You have to not worry,” Anya shook her head, flipping a page. “She’s in the best shape of her life, and she doesn’t lose.”

“I’m going to worry. It’s my natural state. But I’m glad you decided to come home with me instead of staying all alone in that house all alone.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice. You or Bellamy’s sister’s place.”

“I’ll take being the lesser of two evils. I have the guest room all made up for you. And I’m a terrible cook, so maybe some take out and movies. Whatever you want.”

In the ring, Lexa punched and dodged, sweat and swore. Clarke fidgeted slightly and sighed. She wanted to be in Lexa’s corner, but she knew she couldn’t, and the two conflicting facts made her uncomfortable.

“Hey!” Lexa hopped down amidst Clarke’s internal thoughts. “There you are.” She ran a towel along her forehead and neck. Clarke gulped and watched gratuitously.

“I brought those clothes you left at my place.”

“Perfect. Would you believe I haven’t finished packing yet?” Lexa paused only to kiss her and resume running the towel along her stomach.

“I might be able to fathom the idea.”

“It’s tough, but I imagine you’ll get there.”

“You fly in like two hours.”

“I’m going to shower and head over to the airport. I was waiting on these important clothes.”

“Me and Anya are going to get Korean I think. Sounds good?” the doctor looked down at the teenager.

“Sure.” Lexa gave her sister a look. “I am excited,” she held up her hands.

“We’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“I really wish you both could come,” Lexa sighed. “But school and work. A week-long trip to the other side of the world would be irresponsible.”

“We know,” Anya finally stood and shouldered her bag. “Let’s not make this a thing. Go over there and kick ass and get back so we can get ready for the Olympics.”

“Okay,” Lexa smiled. “Be good.”

“I’m always good,” Anya grinned. Clarke saw how conspiratorial it was and shook her head. She watched the younger sister allow the older one to put her hand on the back of her neck and pull her forward so their foreheads were touching. “Knock’em out, champ.”

“Listen to Clarke. If you need anything-”

“I know.”

“I love you,” Lexa smiled and hugged Anya.

“Have a safe trip.” It took a moment before Lexa pulled away. “Seriously. You’re ready. I know you can do it.”

“Can you give us a minute?” the boxer nudged her head at the doctor and Anya nodded and rolled her eyes.

“See you next week.”

Clarke always felt as if she saw another side of Lexa when she was with her sister, and it was no difference now as Anya walked away and Lexa turned her eyes to her.

The gym felt quiet, now, or at least different than it sounded when she first came in with a head full of jitters.

“Let me know if she gives you any trouble. I told her to be on her best behavior,” Lexa sighed. “Thanks for keeping her. I don’t like leaving her alone, and she hates Octavia.”

“It’s no problem. Gives us some time to get to know each other.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. She’s a tough nut to crack.”

“No hopes at all. Just glad I could help.”

“You going to like me if I lose?” Lexa asked, bashful and looking down at her fingers as they worried and knit themselves into knots.

“I’ve actually never considered it. You’ve never lost anything since I’ve known you. You’re still kind of this good Samaritan than stops a robbery,” Clarke grinned at the display.

“That was a while ago.”

“Yeah. Not too long though.”

“Long enough.”

“You’re going to do great. Don’t worry about Anya. She’s okay with me. And we’ll be eagerly waiting for you to come home to us,” Clarke promised, taking a step forward.

“I’m going to bring you the win. Just you wait and see.”

“I believe it.”

“Good.” Lexa slipped her hands around Clarke’s waist, pulling her closer. “I wish you could come. Is that too soon?”

“I wish I could, but it might be.”

“Plus work.”

“And Anya.”

“Right, right, her,” Lexa smirked and nodded. “Next one.”

“Definitely.”

“I’m insanely fond of you, and I’m glad I beat up those robbers because I got to meet you.”

“You’re going to do great,” Clarke promised, running her fingertips down Lexa’s neck and resting her palms on her collarbones.

“Thanks.”

“I like you a lot.”

“No need to get mushy on me.”

As much as she wanted to kiss her, Clarke was overcome with the urge to simply hug Lexa, and so she did. She wrapped her arms around the boxer’s neck and hung there, squeezing her close.


	3. Chapter 3

The city was frozen, though the thaw at its heart began to change it. Buildings dripped and streets cleared of ice, for a day or two, and the next wayward storm would blow its way through, punishing it for believing that it had a chance at all to reach the sacred gates of summer. But still, the city did its best to usher in the changing of seasons. The snow didn’t pile high anymore, but came in wisps and dustings, and the ice didn’t pepper the roads or sidewalks, but relegated itself to puddles and gutters. The city tried, so hard, to escape the perpetual winter, that it did not even notice or care at all, about what would happen on the other side of the world.

Stalling as she entered the only slightly less foreign townhouse, Anya strained her ears as the door clicked shut, listening for any signs of life. She hung the keys on the hook and kicked off her shoes, grateful to drop the heavy books in her arms.

Two days, and she’d grown almost used to it, and so as she detached her coat, she started to dig through the fridge for some kind of sustenance until the doctor got home.

She wasn’t dumb. Anya knew how her sister felt about Clarke, knew that this had the potential to be something that meant the doctor stuck around, and as much as she wanted to give her trouble, to really test her mettle, she couldn’t truly bring herself to do it. Not fully. A little here and there, but Lexa didn’t date, and she owed her sister this.

As she took a bite of an apple, Anya tried to message her sister in hopes of avoiding some of the homework that was waiting for her.

She took the time to snoop. She looked at menus and books, scoured the junk drawer, found baby pictures, and thankfully, nothing weird. Instead of being a nightmare, she decided to embrace welcoming Clarke, and thus, vetting her. It was the high road, and the younger of the sisters was proud at her growth as a human as she opened every drawer in the house.

For her entire life, it was her sister’s job to protect her, and now, she could pretend that analyzing Clarke’s Netflix queue was he same as taking a punch, that sacrificing her own dreams was the same as an informal background check, that being a punching bag for a living was the same as asking uncomfortable questions to really get to the deep down parts of someone. Anya found herself on a mission during her week with Clarke. That and a mission to finish the paper her sister would hound her about when she got back, win or lose.

It wasn’t that Lexa wasn’t smart. In fact, far from it. But her academic record only pushed her sister harder, and thus led to the stacks of books and AP classes and schedule that would make anyone want to bash their own brains out with a textbook. But Lexa was smart, and she was eager for Clarke, and it made Anya worried despite her sister’s carefulness.

As much as she hated to admit it, Clarke’s house was nice enough, and the company wasn’t completely terrible. The doctor was nice and not a serial killer, which was important. She did her laundry and kept the fridge full of mostly healthy things, though Anya didn’t hold it against her completely.

“Hey, Anya, sorry I’m late,” Clarke came in through the back, arms full of bags. “I stopped and got a few things for the fight.”

“Yeah you did,” the teenager looked up from her books spread out on the table. “You do know my sister’s last fight lasted two minutes and forty-eight seconds, right?”

“Believe me, she made it perfectly clear,” the doctor shook her head with a smile, sharing it with the kid at her table. “A few times.”

“Sounds like her.”

“How’s it going? No problems getting back?” She asked, beginning to put away a few things after putting her coat on a chair.

“I have used the subway before, so yeah.”

“Have you heard from Lexa?”

“Just a few texts earlier. She goes quiet before a match. Aliens could invade and she wouldn’t notice,” Anya shrugged, tapping her pencil against her notebook. “What’s for dinner?”

“How do you two do it?” Clarke shook her head. “You’re both lanky and tall and all you do is eat.”

“Well, Lexa burns about a million calories per day, and I’m just blessed with exquisite genes that also may include addictive tendencies and terrible taste in men,” she explained.

“She was right about you.”

“How’s that?”

“Too smart for your own good.” Clarke earned a devious kind of grin from the teenager as she shook her head, somewhat trying to deny it. “Honestly, I’m exhausted. How about you order pizza while I shower?”

“I can do that.”

“Try to get some veggies on it at least.”

“Extra meat, Extra cheese. Got it.”

With a roll of her eyes, Clarke shared a smile and went to take her shower, leaving Anya with the menu from the fridge and her big books that made her feel incredibly stupid.

If Anya were really honest about it, she’d admit that she understood why her sister felt so nice around Clarke. She was together, put-together, all-together, basically an adult, and that was nice. Especially for the two girls who raised themselves and did not fully understand what that meant, nor had any good experiences with individuals as such.

Staying here, in this house, that had clean towels for the bathroom specifically for hands, and a revolving supply of fresh vegetables, Anya felt that kind of homesickness for a place that never existed for her, but one that she oddly liked, and found herself almost afraid of losing. It would make sense that her sister would understand, would feel safe here, would be as smitten as she was. A real, live adult, who was funny and smart and so far hadn’t snapped despite all teenage attempts to make her break.

By the time Clarke made it back downstairs, her television was on and the teen moved from the table in the kitchen to the coffee table in front of the announcing and flashing screen. She towelled her hair and flopped down behind Anya after grabbing a glass of wine, oddly nervous for what she was about to watch.

“How’s the homework?”

“Not too much tonight.”

“You’ve been working for like, three hours,” Clarke scoffed, leaning forward and perusing the biology book. Anya just chuckled. “Anything strike your fancy that you might want to do when you go to college?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well what do you like?”

“I’m good at math. I like physics.”

“You’re a freak of nature,” Clarke complained. “I hated that stuff.”

“Now you sound like Lexa. I don’t know. I was thinking of engineering. I just like how things work, I like numbers, and I’m good with them.”

“You know, my dad’s an engineer, right?” Anya turned around and looked at Clarke like she was kidding. “I mean it. He works downtown, not even a few blocks from the hospital. I had lunch with him last week.”

“Does he love it?”

“He’s kind of got a brain like yours. He loves it,” Clarke nodded with a faint smile. “I can see if he needs a little help, maybe you could spend some time with him. He could give you some advice and stuff. I can help with bio, but that’s about it.”

“That’d be… yeah,” Anya nodded, furrowing and serious. “Please. That’d be spectacular.”

“Alright,” Clarke smiled, pulling out her phone and firing off a text. For a second, Anya grew quiet, apprehensive even. She was unsure and surprised and suddenly very much alarmed at how easy things were coming. She stared at her notebook and processed. “Yeah, I can take you over after school tomorrow, if you want.”

“You just… texted him?”

“Yeah,” Clarke shrugged. “He is always way too eager to meld young minds. It’s like a dork convention when he has kids visit. No matter the age, he loves showing off.”

“What’s it… what’s it like?” Anya turned around, pulling her knees up and staring at Clarke as if she were a freak of nature who didn’t realize she was a spectacle. Instead the doctor just typed on her phone and rolled her eyes at her father.

“What’s what like?”

“Never mind.”

“His firm?” Clarke sighed, locking her screen. “It’s not too big. He takes on projects he likes. Always tinkering. He loves the job though. He was working on nerve sensors with one of my colleagues at the hospital before funding got pulled last year.”

“Sounds amazing,” Anya offered weakly, turning back to her notebook.

From the couch, Clarke crossed her legs and stared at the screen, hoping to catch some glimpse of Lexa, though it was preoccupied with a previous match from other girls. She wasn’t sure what exactly was supposed to happen, and so she just waited. She watched Anya work, her pen moving quickly across the page, filling it as her fingers moved along the lines in the book.

“You work really hard at school,” Clarke observed aloud.

“It’s my job.”

“Still. It’s impressive.”

“Lexa worked really hard to give me this opportunity. I can’t let her down.”

“I doubt you could. She’s insanely proud of you,” the doctor assured the girl.

“No matter what I do, I’ll always be in debt to her,” Anya sighed, leaning back against the couch slightly as she stretched her leg out in one direction. “But if I can take care of her, like she took care of me. I don’t know. Is it stupid? To think that?”

“Not at all. Though I don’t think there’s a debt. I don’t know. I’m an only child.”

“When I was four, my sister shoved me under the bed and got her arm broken in three places by one of our foster dads,” Anya rattled off. “When I was nine, her face got beat so swollen, her eyes couldn’t open for a week. When I was eleven, she won her first match and got us a shitty apartment on King. Fourth floor walk up. One bedroom. Barely working lights. Two years later, I started at one of the best private schools in the city, and I have my own room. I owe her everything.”

Quiet and surprised, Clarke simply listened, in awe and unaware of how absolutely astounding her girlfriend truly was, in awe of how adored she was by her sister, in awe of both for innumerable reasons.

“And one day,” Anya grinned, dreamy and determined. “I’m going make it all worth it for her.”

She couldn’t help herself, and she didn’t mean to, but Clarke slid down onto the floor and wrapped her arms around the student, hugging her tightly, though her body went slightly rigid at the sudden contact.

“Um. What are you doing?”

“This is how we communicate in my family,” Clarke mumbled, not letting go. It was in that moment that she realized she had two little ducks she had to teach how to be human and assimilate into the real world.

“Thank God,” Anya pulled away as the doorbell rang with pizza. “Lexa said you were a hugger. I didn’t get it.”

“You two are hopeless.”

There was the smile. The same smile Lexa gave her often when Clarke got fed up with, or utterly annoyed by her girlfriend who did it on purpose. Anya had the same one, and in that moment, Clarke knew there were so many things genetics did, that it defied all logic.

* * *

Even from the stoop, Lexa could hear the chatter inside that awaited her return. The townhouse on the corner glowed in the evening, even exuded a warmth from the inhabitants inside, and yet she could not make herself step inside out of the cold.

The cut above her eye tingled in the frozen breeze, while the swelling on her cheek enjoyed the relief from the steaming it did to her blood. As eager as she’d been to fly across the world, with new news of her Olympic-bound journey and the fact that she suddenly had two people to come home to, she couldn’t make herself cross the threshold just yet.

From the window, through the curtains, she could make out bodies, saw a familiar bit of blonde, saw the long, lanky frame of her sister, arms over her chest against the fireplace. And she laughed. Her sister laughed so hard she snorted at something the blonde said. All at once, Lexa realized it was something she could get used to, and that was a dangerous kind of game.

“I thought you would have been in there already,” Indra approached, hands deep in her pockets and huffing against the bitter evening setting into the streets.

“You know me. Fashionably late,” Lexa grinned, allowing her mentor to hold her chin and tilt, appraising the damage when she was close enough. Even in the dim light, Lexa could see her glance of disappointment and tsk.

“It’s like you’re allergic to keep your hands up.”

“I won.”

“Sloppily.”

“High praise.”

“Stop. I’m proud,” she finally chuckled and hugged the girl who she’d once rescued from a street fight and made work in her gym to keep her busy and out of trouble. Lexa smiled and relaxed into her arms. “Just wish you’d stop trying to make yourself even uglier,” Indra teased, pushing the boxer’s head slightly.

“Can’t believe Anya managed to get you to come by. You’re usually the strong silent type.”

“Not everyday a street kid from my gym makes it to the Olympic team. Thought I’d show my support. Tell you to keep your hands up.”

“There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“That too,” Indra smiled, gently patting Lexa’s sore cheek and nudging her head toward the door.

With a deep breath and silent nod, Lexa finally opened the door, provoking a cry of welcomes and celebration at the arrival of the main event, the woman of the hour, the reason for the welcome home party entirely. It felt like everyone she ever knew was in the home, and it wasn’t many people, but to have everyone who mattered in one place was new and nice.

“Hey,” Anya punched her sister’s arm before hugging her quickly. “You did good out there. Do I get a ticket to Rio?”

“We’ll see how your grades look.” Lexa hugged her tighter than she meant to, but she needed it. The boxer held her sister tighter than ever and felt her lungs expand and fill because it was all because of her, for better or worse, and that was a lot to be personified in such a young thing.

“We have a lot to talk about,” her sister pulled away finally.

“Can’t believe I beat you to the free beer,” Bellamy punched her arm as well.

“Why is everyone doing that?” She shook her head in disbelief, hugging her trainer and partner in crime, both celebrating the victory happily.

It took a while to make it to everyone, to be overrun with love and support, so much so, that it was exhausting, and Lexa could understand why Indra stayed away so often. It was a lot. Too much, in fact, though she was thankful to share that burden.

“Come on,” Lexa finally met Clarke’s eyes and grinned. She held her arms out, waiting, and she was not disappointed.

Arms went around her neck and she smiled so wide she had to hide it in Clarke’s shoulder as she stayed there and refused to do anything else. It didn’t matter that her ribs were still bruised, or that her hands hurt, or that her cheek was going to break under the strain of it all. All that existed was the girl in her arms that invited everyone she knew to her home and celebrated.

“I am so unbelievably proud of you,” the doctor whispered, kissing Lexa’s cheek as glasses were dinged for them to kiss. Hoots and hollers erupted at their display, a little foreign to anyone who knew the boxer well enough to be there, but the happiness she beamed was more than enough to sway them to favor the blonde.

With her girl on her arm, Lexa swallowed the lump in her throat that she was unsure of its origins, and she faced everyone. She felt Clarke’s hand on her hip and she felt suddenly very different.

“Thank you all, for coming,” she smiled. “I think this might be the happiest moment of my life, this exact moment. It’s a lot, but,” she took a deep breath and grinned at her sister, met her friend’s eyes, surveying them graciously before looking down at Clarke and getting a dimpled smile back. “It’s something I could get used to, that’s for sure.”

“And now we go for gold!” Bellamy yelled, earning another round of yells and cheers and celebrations.

The music turned up and all Lexa could do was shake her head and kiss the girl beside her properly, because surely such happiness had to be shared, or she would explode.


End file.
